


Remember the fine night air (didn't I show I cared?)

by DreamingOfABetterYou



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Berkeley Square because where else would they kiss really, First Kiss, Fluff, Holding Hands, M/M, Nothing hurts just fluff and sweetness and them being absolute darlings, Pining, This is honestly just softness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-27 02:04:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19780996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamingOfABetterYou/pseuds/DreamingOfABetterYou
Summary: In which Crowley and Aziraphale reminisce over a night in Paris centuries ago and finally address the 6000-year old elephant in the room.





	Remember the fine night air (didn't I show I cared?)

**Author's Note:**

> This is indulgent and soft my GOODNESS.  
> For ultimate ambiance, listen to this (which is where the fic's title is from too): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3IXxQtMT4dM  
> It's peak softness.

“Do you remember that evening in Paris, when we stood at the Seine?”

Crowley shook out of the thoughts he had been following lazily, blinking as he turned to face Aziraphale on their bench in Berkeley Square. It was late, the sun making a play out of dipping behind the horizon but not quite disappearing just yet, generously bathing the remaining single souls on the streets in warmth and comfort, however short it might last.

“And the leaves were stirring, and the breeze was just right?” he mumbled, remembering back to a summer evening blending into autumn, sweet wine on his tongue and the tender warmth of Aziraphale standing next to him, close but never quite close enough.

“You looked at me so softly.” He sounded…wondrous, in awe, almost; and wasn’t that a confusing thought, to have Aziraphale be in awe of oneself? A confusing, elating, wonderful, stirring thought?

“I wanted to touch you” Crowley heard himself say without even meaning to speak out loud; the words had just slipped past his traitorous lips, dancing in the space between the two of them as if to say _well now here we are, what are you going to do about it?_ Well, Crowley had a few ideas. The first – probably the best idea he had had in a while – was to be daring. Audacious, even.

“I wanted to just caress your cheek, just once…”

“I would have let you” Aziraphale whispered, so quietly that the wind had almost carried away his voice before it reached Crowley. But, thankfully, it didn’t.

The demon turned his head quickly, the gentlest kind of whiplash, eyes wide and golden and beautiful in the dim lamplight. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Aziraphale laughed; it was a wet, self-deprecating sound that tasted sad on his tongue. “I was afraid.”

“Are you still?” He let his hand drop dangerously close to where Aziraphale’s was resting next to his thigh, and two pairs of eyes fell on his hand before they met each other, gold and seafoam-blue.

“No.” the angel replied, reaching out with a pinkie to nudge against Crowley’s, as if to make sure he really was there, that this wasn’t a figment of his imagination.

“Then touch me now” Crowley said, sounding braver than he was, and turned over his hand slowly, as to not to spook the other being.

“Is it the right time?” Aziraphale asked hesitatingly, laying his palm over the demon’s wrist, fingers skimming his palm but not quite yet aligned. A last moment of _are you sure? We can stop, we can pretend this means nothing, tell me this means something, please tell me this means everything to you like it does to me, please._

Crowley smiled, heartbreakingly tender. “Angel. Every time would have been the right time.”

“I made you wait for so long” he mumbled wistfully, slowly letting his fingers glide between Crowley’s. The sensation of the angel’s perfectly buffed and manicured nails on his palm as they gently dragged over his skin before slipping in the spaces left for Aziraphale – and nobody else, who would have compared? – made Crowley shudder, the way a delightful, nightly June breeze does when you just climbed out of a lake.

“Then don’t make me wait even longer” Crowley said with a desperate tinge in his voice; it was nearly a whine, even if he would spend decades trying to deny that. He clung to Aziraphale’s hand like a lifeline, nearly going insane with how softly the angel ran his thumb over the length of Crowley’s, how he slipped over the knuckles so, so gently.

“My dear” Aziraphale sighed, lips curving in the most loving of smiles (looking the same way he had as he had in the Globe, and in the Ritz, and even on the wall in the Garden, maybe, and _oh_ , they had both been idiots that whole time, hadn’t they?), and lifted their joined to his mouth to push a kiss into Crowley’s skin. “I’m afraid I’ve never really done this. We could…figure it out along the way, if you want?”

Crowley, a bit overcome with…everything, really, turned where he sat, placing his free hand on Aziraphale’s cheek, and _oh_ , that’s where the edge of his thumb was supposed to fit, right under the angel’s cheekbone. Gently skimming Aziraphale’s skin, he thought about the possibility of having done this exact thing centuries ago, and tried not to feel too bereft from not having had all this time with the angel, in that exact way.

“I wish I had done everything on earth with you” he blurted, feeling terribly pathetic for using someone else’s words when his own failed him.

Aziraphale drew in a small, surprised breath – not quite a gasp, but certainly its younger sister – before his face lit up with the gentle glow of a wistfulness that Crowley found hard to look at, but couldn’t turn away from, either. “You will.”

Crowley, in that moment, decided that words were just embellishments that hid the important bits, really, and for that reason chose not to use any. Instead, he leaned in to kiss Aziraphale, right on his beautiful, brilliant mouth.

The angel met him halfway.

**Author's Note:**

> About "I wish I had done everything on earth with you": I will quote that part from The Great Gatsby until the day I die; it's just too perfect and wistful and nostalgic for a time that never was.


End file.
